In her dreams, the grass was tall and golden, a rustling sea that seemed to go on forever. She roamed the open plains, tall and yet graceful, as smaller creatures skittered away from her long-reaching step. And sometimes she wasn’t so tall, sometimes she was the small creature instead, always hunted, always alert.

She dreamt of the wild places, places no kin had reached. She dreamt of the creatures there, both strange and familiar.

And when she woke up, sometimes it was hard to remember who she was.

Especially with a wolf in your face.

Dream of the Wild startled backwards, trying to scurry, to dive into some dark little hole where gripping teeth couldn’t reach. But she was kin-sized and ungainly in her sleepy haze, so she ended up on her behind, hopelessly vulnerable. Her heart thudded wildly in her chest, eyes locked on to the wolf as it showed off its fangs in a wolfish grin.

Was she going to die?

Here, now?

That seemed unfair.

She’d been having so much fun. She had been planning to meet Sky Grazer again, to frolic and play. She’d been truly living and now she felt the loss so keenly she wanted to cry. That one moment could be so happy and the next so full of fear. Like the small creatures always one moment from death; life was never a guarantee. As a kin, sometimes you forgot that.

“Please don't,” she managed to gasp.

Hoping, praying to the MotherFather, that this wolf was curious instead of hungry. Or maybe the familiar of some nearby kin.

Yes, yes, it wasn’t over yet.

“Bad- bad dog,” she stuttered, failing to sound at all forceful but doing her best. “Go-go away, s-shoo.”

The wolf tilted it’s head,

And he said,

“My apologies.”

Except he was no longer a wolf but a tall stag, watching her with the same eyes from a different face. A very handsome fellow indeed, and she was so grateful not to be looking down the nose of a wolf that she didn’t care that his apology seemed airily hollow.

“You seemed to be having an interesting dream.” He smiled, and she could almost imagine the fangs returning, though his tone was pleasant. “And I didn’t want to wake you.”

“T-that’s quite, quite alright,” she assured, finally trying to get to her hooves. “You’re a, uh, a, um, one of the blessed ones? Are you not?” She’d heard of them but certainly hadn’t met one.

Dream’s legs were quite shaky still even once she was standing and the handsome stag being so close was not helping. “Can I... help you with something?” Her ears perked. “Did you want to hear about my dreams?”

“Ah, not right now. No, I’m here to bless you.”

“Oh,” she said. Then, “Oh.”

“Indeed.” The stag chuckled. “Well, let me think.” He gave a low rumbling hum. “May they be the hunter and not the hunted; running wild and always following their dreams.”

What now? She didn’t feel different.

“Thank you?”

The stag laughed. “You’re welcome. Try not to sleep so deeply next time. It can be dangerous.” Then the wolf was big, grinning, eyes aglow, and it loped away into the dawn.

Fin!